A Lady's Entourage
by patheticnemesis
Summary: Aubrey's life wasn't boring, merely uneventful. She didn't realise caring for a stranger in a storm could cause such an upheaval, however. Lucky she's a firm believer in the principle "when life hands you lemons, call for tequila." Post CoS ON HIATUS AS OF 07/12/12.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I like playing with it, but it's not mine. And I should get a medal for making a disclaimer sound perverted._

**Well. I think I might have bitten off more than I can chew with this. I'm not entirely new on the block but I'm completely new to stories longer than 1000 words. Don't be deterred though. None of this is beta'd, so any mistakes are my own. **

...

The weather, ironically, was stormy. Slate coloured clouds skidded across the sky and rain drove forward in furious arcs.

I'd been reading a new book fresh off the shipping crate on China's Opium Wars and found myself glued to a section on the British India Trading Company. I hadn't even realised the change from pleasant to downright raging that had been going on right in front of me before the crash of thunder startled me from my academic haze.

One look at the window and immediately any previous plans I'd had for going into the town centre were dashed. No way was I getting knocked over into freezing puddles of muddy water unless it was a choice between life and death.

Unfolding my stiff legs from under me I reached for the heavens and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction as the muscles in my back slowly unknotted. Putting my book down on the side table next to my armchair, I padded through the room, switching on lamps and fiddling with shades. A cup of tea was sounding perfect right then so I proceeded through to the kitchen, making sure all the windows were shut on the way.

Setting the kettle on the stove and turning the heat on, I waltzed across the floor to the cabinets, selecting a well worn cup and saucer from amidst an eclectic collection. One of the things I had an appreciation for was antique china, and the peony-and-daffodil set I chose now was my favourite, reminding me of the overgrown gardens my brother and I used to explore in when we were children.

Humming a tune softly under my breath, I went about brewing myself a cup of earl grey, slicing a little lemon and dashing some sugar in to counter the bitterness. Making my way back into the living room, I pulled a thick blanket from one of the hallway cupboards and, wrapping myself up, proceeded to sip my tea and watch the oncoming storm with content indifference.

It shouldn't have surprised me that my little pocket of calm wouldn't last for more than a few minutes.

As a terrific bolt of lightning lit the room I heard the unmistakeable sound of something falling with a heavy thud against the side of my little veranda out the front. Tensing swiftly, I held myself completely still and strained to hear any further disturbances. When the sound came again only from a much shorter distance and accompanied by a low groan, I set my cup down decisively and moved to the front entrance.

Opening the door I poked my head around the frame, shivering at the biting wind stabbing through my woolly armour. Resigned and not being able to see much from where I was, I decided that I had best make sure whoever thought my doorstep was the perfect pit-stop wasn't seriously injured and needing medical attention.

Retreating back inside I set my blanket down and, as an afterthought, picked up a sturdy rolling pin from a drawer in the kitchen. While smashing someone's head in with a baking utensil wasn't exactly appealing, I didn't have any actual weapons laying about the house and figured that it would at least cause enough damage for me to call the proper people if I found myself in danger.

Stepping back outside I quietly tiptoed down the stairs and toward where I could make out the sounds of harsh breathing. Unease was beginning to creep down my spine along with the very cold rain, and the combination was steadily killing any control I should have had in such a crisis. Taking the last few steps I quickly rounded the corner, rolling pin raised in an imitation of a wrathful god – and just as quickly let the stance drop as I took in the appearance of a bedraggled looking boy stretched out on the grass.

...

**Constructive criticism is welcome. Chapters will be posted whenever I get an opportunity but there should be at most a 3 week waiting period.**


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I like playing with it, but it's not mine. And I should get a medal for making a disclaimer sound perverted._

**I know the first chapter was fairly slow, establishing things and all that, so this is going up early. It'll get more interesting soon, have faith pumpkins. And I'm just damn excited about how well this is going at the moment. Yay! **

...

For a moment all I could do was stare as the boy shook where he was sprawled, apparently having fainted. Then, coming to my senses I hurried to his side, shaking him to see if I could get any response. When nothing seemed forthcoming, I pulled him into a sitting position so I could drag his arm around my shoulder in order to at least get him out of the rain. Knowing it wasn't going to be an easy task, I managed to stand, taking him with me but then faced the dilemma of trying to get him around the side and up the steps.

Somehow, mostly by hauling him along in a very undignified manner, I made it back to the front and onto the veranda. Peering down at the stranger, I saw the way his eyes moved behind his lids, back and forth in evident distress as his breath gasped out in short puffs. I'd never been capable of ignoring someone in need. Grumbling to myself and just knowing I was doing something I'd regret later, I pulled him inside and shut the door firmly on the growing tempest.

Settling the boy onto the couch (though it was more like dropping him and leaving him flopped half over the edge), I briskly gathered a blanket, towel, some clean dry pants and a shirt before building up a fire in the grate. Once that was done, I turned to my unexpected guest and appraised him from head to foot.

Long, golden hair, pallid skin, strong features and a compact body all greeted my eyes before I noticed he was shivering quite violently. Clambering over to him, I reached for his boots before hesitating. It wasn't exactly polite to strip a man when he wasn't capable of agreeing after all. But when the boy's breath stuttered out in a cough I pushed my discomfort aside and began undressing him.

It was only when I'd removed his socks that I realised with a jolt I wasn't feeling skin and bone on his left leg. Feeling unnerved, I slid his trousers off with difficulty (even if he _was_ unconscious, unbuttoning his pants brought my hands far too close to places I'd rather not be near when I didn't even know his name) and held my breath as his lower body was revealed.

Even though I'd seen amputees before, I'd never seen the prosthetics this stranger was wearing. Curiosity winning out over courtesy I let my fingers trail up the foot along the calf and round the knee. It was made of steel, that much was obvious, but from what little I could feel between the plating the inner mechanics were incredibly complex. I had noticed when carrying him that he was heavy, even for what one would expect of a healthy male, and perhaps this was the cause.

Continuing with my task I redressed him in the clean pair of pants, making sure to dry him beforehand and noticing his skin was quickly becoming clammy to the touch. Working with more haste, I unbuttoned his soaked shirt and, peeling it back, reached for his arms to slide it off his torso.

Again, this time with his right arm, I felt the unnaturalness of steel in place of flesh and blood and this more than anything decided any hesitation I might have had for caring for a stranger who'd dropped so suddenly into my life. Morbid curiosity and I were old friends.

Even with the warmth seeping into the room from the fire, the boy was still shivering and beginning to cough dryly. I'd had plenty of experience caring for my brother when he was ill but this didn't seem like a natural fever. The sharp lines of the bones through his skin had been obvious when I'd been redressing him and I could see he probably hadn't had a proper meal for a long time. A combination of weakness from hunger and ill health then, I gathered, and maybe more besides that I couldn't perceive.

I'd made some soup the day before, something thin but fairly nourishing, and I deemed it perfect for nursing a sick man back to health. Knowing I wasn't about to get much sleep that night, I made sure the doors and windows were locked and then set about gathering washcloth and water, then making sure I wasn't in possession of a dying man before dawn.

_xxx_

The sun's thin rays kissing my eyelids brought me out of a broken dream the next morning. The storm had blown itself out sometime while I was asleep, and the birds' twittering was loud in the quiet of the room. Stretching my legs and arching my back I felt rather than heard the shift of something behind me.

Whipping around, I first took in the mismatched fabric of one of my blankets then, eyes travelling sideways, golden hair cascading down the side of the couch. Immediately I jumped to my feet, looking at the boy I'd been nursing before I drifted off from exhaustion. His fever had passed sometime around midnight, which was relatively quick in my eyes, but I could see now more clearly the starved hollows of his cheekbones.

Hurrying to the kitchen I checked how much soup I still had and made a note to make some more as soon as I'd fed him. The details of the night before, the steady decline his health had made and then the relieving spike as his coughing petered out and his breathing evened in sleep were slightly hazy, but I clearly remembered the moment he'd started calling out. A product of hallucinations, no doubt, but I still felt unnerved by the anguish in his voice as he called out a name, one I couldn't recall properly now.

Hearing him shift again, I poured soup into the bowl I'd been using previously and walked back to the living room. Kneeling down by his side, I wondered whether I should wake him from his clearly fatigued state. Deciding it was probably better to let him feed himself if he was capable, I gently shook him by his shoulder. Slowly, so slowly I could literally see him climbing out of his dreams, he brought himself back to reality.

...

**Worship me, for I use Ed's pain as a plot device. I am just that magnificent. On a side note, veranda is such an Australian word. Seriously though, what else can I call it, back porch? Extension-of-house? _Elongated step?_ This is gonna drive me crazy!**


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I like playing with it, but it's not mine. And I should get a medal for making a disclaimer sound perverted._

**In case anyone was wondering, this is supposed to be set a year after CoS in 1924. I feel I should probably make that clear now because most of the events that take place will coincide with that period. And it might just be me but I really like that number combo_. _ What a weirdo. Onward!**

...

Golden eyes greeted me, first through slits, then through wide open shock. Before I'd even taken a blink he was on the other side of the couch leaving me staring bewildered at the space he'd been in. Turning my head to him I regarded the way he stared at me in surprise and rising confusion, hand pressed to his forehead from what must have been a killer of a headache. Keeping myself as still as possible, I quietly waited as he struggled to place his surroundings. When his face started taking on a troubled expression, I thought it best to reassure him.

"I wouldn't worry, I'm not dangerous. Well, it's unlikely at least."

My words were greeted with dawning comprehension and quite a bit of doubt. Frowning, I felt I should remind him of the situation as I saw it.

"You dropped in quite unexpectedly, you know. I could have smashed your head in with my rolling pin, I was quite prepared to, but you'd fainted so it wouldn't have done much. You were feverish for most of the night but my expert care has seen you back on your – oh, I wouldn't try that if I were – well look at that. You might have listened, then you wouldn't have ended up down there."

As I was speaking he'd tried to get to his feet, but like I'd predicted he wasn't quite up to the task yet and had dropped to the floor, hard. At my observation he shot me an unfriendly look before raising himself laboriously back onto the couch. When he was seated he turned his eyes back to me, and I could feel my skin prickle with the intensity in them.

"Where am I?" His voice was soft, hoarse from all the coughing and a tenor that should have sounded gentle but instead came out calculating. He had a noticeable German accent, but his English was impeccable. Intrigued, I noticed the way he focused entirely on me, waiting for my answer.

"France. Just outside of Bordeaux. But I assume you already knew that - you seem to have been travelling for quite a period of time, judging from your appearance"

Ignoring my obvious ploy to get him to tell me why he looked like a street rat on the lookout for a meal I watched his hard gaze flitting around the room.

"If we're in France, why are we speaking English?"

It was a valid question but immediately I felt my barriers sliding into place. I barely knew this stranger; he didn't have the right to know why I was living by myself in a house in a foreign country. Feeling defensive I answered his question with one of my own.

"Why is a German travelling across borders? I don't even know your name, so why should I tell you the circumstances of my living arrangements?" He looked quite taken aback, I'll give him that, but I felt perfectly justified in my snappy retort.

For the first time, his lips curved up at the corners into a little smirk. He nodded once, apparently approving of my hostility and let himself fall slowly back into the couch.

"Right. Maybe we should start again. My name's Edward Elric. Thanks for making sure I didn't die."

Smiling, I held out my hand, deliberately using my left. If he noticed, he didn't give any sign.

"I'm Aubrey Winston and you're very welcome. Pleased to meet you, Edward. In answer to your question, I was born in England but have lived here since my parents passed away. Your turn."

Shaking my hand briefly he frowned in confusion. I indicated his appearance. Belatedly, he looked down and seemed to notice for the first time his change of clothing. Face turning crimson he yanked the blanket more tightly around him causing me to fall to the ground with a squawk as my body shifted.

Glaring up at him I caught the way his expression shifted from embarrassed to alarmed in the space of thirty seconds. Interestingly, his gaze went to his metal arm before his leg; I wondered if that was because he thought it wiser to cover up the range of movement he seemed to have in that particular limb. Obviously hadn't got my indication that I already knew by way of a left handshake, then.

Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth, looking like he was ready to tell the most amazing lie. I was prepared for that though.

"I've never seen prosthetics quite like that but it looks like they allow you much more freedom than what's normal. I won't say anymore if you don't want me to. I'm not going to forget though. But I can keep secrets rather well, you'll find."

Opening his eyes he gave me a look which clearly said _I don't trust you__. _Despite his obvious discomfort he seemed to put it aside with that though, merely muttering a "fine" before running his fingers through his hair jerkily.

An awkward silence filled the room before I remembered the reason I'd woke him up in the first place. Picking up the bowl of soup I held it out to him like a peace offering.

"You've been ill. And you look like you haven't had a proper meal in a while. You should eat. Also, I wouldn't usually offer but considering the situation, you're welcome to stay here for a few days, just to find your feet."

The suspicious look he gave me made me snicker, as if he was trying to discover what nefarious plot I might be hiding, but he took the bowl with a small nod. And just like that, I had one of the most mysterious house guests I'd ever met.

...

**Edo's awake! Now we're cooking with gas. The previous chapters might be subject to some editing as this progresses, so be aware of that. Shouldn't be anything major though. Feel free to tell me what you think, yeah?**


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I like playing with it, but it's not mine. And I should get a medal for making a disclaimer sound perverted._

**I'm posting this a little earlier because I'm off to Melbourne for the Easter weekend. And when I hear Melbourne my credit card goes into a coma. So I won't be surfacing for a while. Things are starting to pick up speed though so enjoy!**

...

The day passed steadily. We didn't speak much at first, mostly because I was still in caring mode and kept plying him with food and tea. Upon offering him my blend of earl grey his face screwed up so much I couldn't help but giggle. After that I stuck to black tea, though I discovered quite quickly milk was a big no-no.

Edward was an avid reader. He'd watched me reading my history book for all of five minutes before he asked what the content was. As I was explaining it to him, about the Chinese use of empirical research in particular, his face became steadily more interested. After that we were off, discussing the ideals of Plato and other philosophers. He was very well rounded, but it was obvious his speciality was science and hypothesis.

I gathered a few books I had in my collection, Aristotle, Galileo and, one of my recent whims, Reichenbach's _The Philosophy of Time and Space_. Handing them to him, it was the first time I saw him grin, the sight causing me to automatically grin back. It seemed like I'd found another academic soul. The rest of the day passed in studious silence. It struck me as being very cozy.

Around lunch time I decided I would make a proper meal. Colour had started returning to his face and if I was going to sneakily make him put on some weight I decided something heavier would be a good idea.

Apparently Edward didn't just read voraciously. The Shepherd's Pie I'd made disappeared in under ten minutes despite my protests it would make him sick. He didn't even bat an eyelash. I wasn't complaining too much though, my plan would work if this was anything to go by.

Evening was lighting the sky in violets and oranges when I offered to let him use the bathroom and, after some internal debate, the only other room for the night. To all appearances my tiny cottage looked like it wouldn't even house one person let alone two but the back had been extended into an extra room when my brother and I had moved in, and this was where I showed him to.

The walls were painted an unassuming cream and the space consisted simply of a bed, chest of drawers and wooden desk. The window was open, letting in the fresh, cool air and a lamp stood on a small bureau waiting to be lighted. Letting Edward look about him, I moved to the drawers and pulled out a pair of underwear and pyjamas. Leaving them on the bed I opened the door to the bathroom across the hall, turning the light on to alert him of its presence then fetched a towel from one of the cupboards in the hallway.

Deciding he was fine on his own I moved to my own room, shutting the door partway and sinking down onto my bed. My mind was finally beginning to catch up to me, and even in my sleep deprived state I didn't completely trust Edward and the enigma he presented. Hearing the door to the bathroom close I let out a soft gust of breath and closed my eyes.

On my own I could admit to myself I was still woefully ignorant of the strange boy currently showering in my home. I knew if I was going to let him stay I would have to endeavour to find out more about him. I recalled the way he had looked lying on the grass, young and desperately pitiful. I would never say such a thing to his face; any male would take that as an offence to their masculinity - but I had to at least know why he'd ended up in front of my home, alone and obviously needing help.

Despite telling him I wouldn't dwell on the subject of his metal limbs, that too was making me highly curious. I wondered who possessed such advanced knowledge and means to make them, but I also felt it was something that might be highly personal. The way his expression fell when he realised I knew, like he was burdened with something far too heavy (the irony of which didn't escape me), left me feeling subdued.

In a rush I remembered the name he'd called out in his dreams, and the way he'd said it with such worry. _Alphonse._ I wondered who this Alphonse was, and what he meant to Edward. All my thoughts were clamouring at the forefront of my consciousness and the effort to focus was beginning to feel painful. Deciding I'd wait for a more opportune time, one when I wasn't so dog-tired, I let my worries slip away for the time being.

Realising the door to the bathroom had reopened, I went back out into the hallway. Catching sight of Edward in the pyjamas, a strong sense of déjà-vu hit, causing me to freeze in the middle of the floor. It had been a while since I'd seen anyone wearing them, not since -

Edward fixed me with a look of concern and with an effort I pulled myself back together, giving him a disarming smile.

"Sorry. Are you going straight to bed? You must still be quite tired." I was near collapse myself so I couldn't imagine how he must feel, sick as he'd been.

Nodding, he hesitated just a moment before murmuring a goodnight. As soon as his door had closed I sagged against the wall, taking a much needed gasp of air. Maybe this hadn't been a very good idea after all.

...

**If you're wondering why I seem fixated on China's Opium Trade it's because I'm studying it at the moment in my History course. I actually find it really interesting; I just wish I didn't have to write an essay on it. And Alphonse makes an appearance! Don't worry, he'll be there in person soon enough. Hope everyone who celebrates it has a happy Easter!**


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I like playing with it, but it's not mine. And I should get a medal for making a disclaimer sound perverted._

**I have returned! Minus about three paychecks but with lovely boots to boast! Alliteration is so much fun. Anyway! I'm celebrating with a little free creativity - and this time Ed takes front and center. Allons-y!**

...

His eyes refused to close. The fever had left him feeling brain-dead and physically weak, but despite that sleep was elusive. The combination of being in an unfamiliar place along with the steadily growing panic over the whereabouts of his brother was enough to keep him in a perpetual state of awareness. Ever since he'd woken up he'd been in a constant state of flux, torn between wanting to immediately go out and search and remaining where he was getting fed and fussed over.

But that was the crux of the matter. He had absolutely no idea where Alphonse had disappeared to and it was driving him up the wall, which wasn't particularly conducive to his recovery. All he remembered was the two of them walking along a country road, arguing over where the next port was in this bewildering country with its people that were more interested in wine and cheese than the political turmoil fluttering around them.

At the time he'd commented that they should have pressed on the night before, _there's no danger, Al, who would bother with us? _He'd either forgotten or been completely ignorant of thieves and bandits, those poor devils who hung onto survival by their very teeth. It was absolutely inevitable that he would be proven wrong on his stupidly naive assumption.

They'd been surrounded quickly, but numbers meant little against skill and both brothers would never forget their teacher's lessons, drummed in as they'd been. Their attackers hadn't stood a chance and they'd thought they were home free – until the expending of such energy had caught up with them. It was true times were already hard, but Ed and Al had had more difficulty trying to find a good meal than should have been normal.

He didn't recall the rest of the fighting. He supposed they must have gotten away, but that didn't explain why he'd woken up alone. It was odd that he'd seen a random house as a haven, especially since he knew very well that his and Al's German accents found more trouble than assistance. In hindsight he supposed he was lucky to have collapsed on the doorstep of someone like Aubrey.

Which brought him to the next mystery. The girl was about as puzzling as him and he had secrets in spades. He couldn't understand why she was living on her own in a house in the middle of nowhere, in a completely different country. She'd said her parents had passed away, but that didn't really answer anything expect her apparent self-reliance.

The fact that she couldn't have always been alone hadn't escaped him. Whoever had been there previously had obviously been male if the clothes were any indication, and probably important judging by her expression when she'd seen him in the pyjamas. Had they been a friend, an acquaintance, perhaps, even, a lover? She looked far too young to have been married, but he'd learnt quickly not to assume anything about anyone in this world. Nothing was ever as it seemed.

"Dammit. This is ridiculous." He was never going to get anywhere if he didn't ask. Even if she had cared for him while he'd been ill, she didn't seem stupid enough to trust him implicitly which meant there was no way in hell she was letting him into her confidence anytime soon. The questions would have to be asked with tact, and Edward didn't _do _tact. He was blunt at the best of times, painfully so.

But did he even have the right to ask such questions? It wasn't like he was planning to stay for longer than a few days. Less if he could help it; he had no idea of the danger Alphonse might be in at that very minute. And besides, just like she didn't trust him completely, he didn't trust her. It was bad enough that she knew of his automail, and there was no way someone wouldn't question its existence, despite her supposed dismissal.

It was probably better just to take things as they came one step at a time. For the moment he would focus on regaining his strength. It shouldn't be a challenge; Aubrey was one hell of a cook. If he wasn't as worried about Al he would definitely stick around just to take advantage of her culinary skills. He'd never been a patient person, but in this case, he hoped it would pay off.

...

**Eh, I think this is more filler than anything. And I think I sort of suck at Ed characterization. I feel like he should be more angered at the world and life in general or something. Oh well. Hope you liked!**


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I like playing with it, but it's not mine. And I should get a medal for making a disclaimer sound perverted._

**Well, Uni's back with a vengeance. Quite a few deadlines are coming up so I've been trying to write as much as possible so I can update semi-regularly. I go by the basis of three chapter advance=post so if I get writer's block I still have something to show off. Here's the new shiz though; have at it.**

...

The crickets were conspiring against me. They had to be because they wouldn't _shut up_ and sleep was nowhere near forthcoming. I wondered how Edward was faring in the room down the hall. Probably better considering his rate of recovery was still slow. It wasn't like me to be so disgruntled over losing sleep but at least in dreams I might forget about reality for a while. It wasn't looking so bright at the moment.

Those pyjamas had brought back all sorts of memories. Memories of more content times. The times when my brother was still alive and well enough to joke to me about my marriage to my books and _what use do you have for the opposite sex when clearly paper is so much more fulfilling? _I'd always turned bright red at that, lobster red he'd called it. Leon had been such a joker, seeing the humour in every situation, though at the time I hadn't shared the ability in the slightest.

It was silly and pointless to be angsting about this now. I couldn't sleep, had too much on my mind, so gave up on forcing myself and thought about getting up and making some tea. When in a crisis, mental, physical, or emotional, tea was always the answer. That was something my parents had instilled in me from when I was a little girl and it hadn't failed me so far.

Throwing back the covers I dragged on a dressing gown over my nightdress and groped around in the dark for my slippers. Pushing my hair away from my face I shuffled toward the kitchen, trying not to make too much noise. My head throbbed slightly from lack of sleep and over thinking and filling the kettle, finding tea leaves and teapot was all done on autopilot. My edition of Macbeth was still sitting on the table from earlier and as the water boiled I flipped it open in the hopes of distracting myself.

Around the time I came to the conclusion that Lady Macbeth did _not_ grow on one over time, the water had boiled, so I went about infusing the Darjeeling leaves that had been a gift from Mrs Lancaster in town when I'd fixed her curtains up for her. I could do other things than read after all and I'd been on my own for long enough to become fairly handy with household maintenance.

The smell of the lazy spirals of steam had a calming effect and I slowly felt myself relaxing from the strain I'd found myself under. Crossing my legs I steadily sipped and continued reading, not hearing the uncertain steps that were soon coming down the hall. It was only when I heard a soft cough that I finally recognised Edward standing in the doorway looking distinctly sleep-ruffled. I suddenly noticed the light colour the sky had turned and realised with a jolt that it was just before dawn. I'd been reading a lot longer than I'd thought.

Grinning at his appearance, I gestured for Edward to join me at the table.

"Good morning. Sleep well?" He gave a non-committal shrug before running his hands through his dishevelled hair. I didn't comment on his lack of an answer, merely getting up and beginning to prepare breakfast.

"Help yourself to some tea, it should still be warm. I go into my own little world when I read but for some reason I'm always aware of the tea replenishing itself. I suppose I subconsciously do it after all this time."

He smiled at that, the barest tugging up of the corners of his mouth, and reached for the extra teacup I'd placed on front of him. The sounds and smell of bacon sizzling in the pan were soon filling the space between us making conversation difficult so he reached for my book, giving it a cursory glance.

Turning back to the table sometime later I found him engrossed in it, not even looking up when I set his plate down in front of him. Smiling to myself I ate quietly, watching him covertly from the corner of my eye. He was frowning slightly, reading between bites of toast and sips of tea. I don't think he even registered the unusual taste of the Darjeeling.

When we'd both finished, I gathered the plates thoughtfully and set about doing the dishes. Perhaps this was a good time to begin asking some of the questions that had been going round and round my head for the better part of last night. I knew how off-putting it was to be asked questions whilst focussing intently on something else, and if he was anything like me he'd probably answer truthfully for lack of attentiveness.

I wondered if it was perhaps a bit devious of me to use such a tactic, but I desperately wanted answers. Drying the breakfast things and putting them away seemed to take a lot less time than usual, indecision circling as it was through my head. It was worth a shot I eventually decided. Steeling myself I sat back down and poured myself another cup of tea. Time to get to the bottom of things.

...

**I'm going through some formatting trials, trying to find something that looks halfway decent because I've only got Word as a tool and it's not particularly varied. Don't be nervous if things look different at all; that's the reason. Also - would anyone be willing to either recommend or be a beta? I haven't had one before but it could be an advantage...Hmm. Hope everyone's well :)**


	7. Chapter 7

_Disclaimer: I like playing with it, but it's not mine. And I should get a medal for making a disclaimer sound perverted._

**So, today I'm evading my English essay and turning to more egotistical and rewarding pursuits. The questioning begins in this chapter and I hope it lives up to any expectations **

**Oh; I'll make this a bit clearer here as well. The reason for the chapters being so short is because I as an author want to keep people interested. And I feel if I make things longer I won't be achieving that. But if you can stick with me for a little more, you'll see things getting denser as the story progresses. Regardless, I'm grateful for the constructive criticism; I'll try implementing anything you throw at me :)**

After a few moments gathering my words I began with the least intrusive of my variety of queries.

"Edward, where is it you're travelling to?"

My theory of appropriate distraction was proved correct when he didn't even glance up before giving an answer.

"Not really sure. I have to find my brother first; we were searching for some information before we got separated."

Mulling that over, I realised he'd shared something I hadn't thought of.

"You have a brother?"

"Yeah. Alphonse. He's a year younger than me. Shakespeare was really obsessed with witches."

Frowning, I ignored that last part. Alphonse. The name he'd been calling during his fever. Alphonse was his brother?

"What happened to him?"

His shoulders immediately tensed. Looking up he fixed me with a sharp gaze, shutting the book as he did so. It looked like I'd been caught.

For a minute or so he sized me up, seeming to weigh his options. Then he folded his arms firmly.

"I'm not quite sure. We were attacked by thieves on the road; that's basically why I ended up over here. Like you guessed we'd been travelling for a while, enough time to become sufficiently weakened. So the energy we'd used knocking them down to begin with didn't last. We must have lost each other when we ran for it, but I honestly have no way of being certain.

Now I've shared that, I have a question of my own. Why is it that you have men's clothing stored in an extra room? You said your parents died but that clearly doesn't mean you've always been on your own."

We sat there eyeing each other and I could literally feel the mental sparring between us. We both had things we didn't want to share. But if I wanted my more probing questions answered I knew I had to confide in him to some extent.

Letting myself relax into my chair I sipped my tea, choosing a place to begin. This was going to take some time.

"My parents died when I was fourteen from the influenza pandemic. My brother and I weren't affected but we didn't have any family left in Europe as a cause of it and the war. This place was left to us by an aunt though. Leon was seventeen, old enough to look after us both without too much difficulty. So we packed up. We'd inherited what money there still was and also sold the family home back in England.

Things were fairly easy for many years. But then Leo became ill. We thought it was just flu, something common that would be easy to shake off. Within the space of a few weeks he could barely breathe. Pneumonia, it turned out. If it had been influenza again, I – I don't think I could have handled things as calmly as I was able.

I cared for him, only letting the doctor come a few times to check on him. His was one of the more severe cases. Whenever he was lucid enough he'd tell me to stop being foolish, that I could easily catch the same thing, to find someone else to nurse him. He actually thought I'd listen to him.

Eventually there was nothing more I or anyone else could do. Not being able to move had caused him to develop gangrene, despite my best efforts, and his right leg had to be amputated. He passed away within the same month. That was two years ago and I've been by myself since then.

I get by alright, doing odd jobs around the town and selling books a friend of mine from America sends me. Of course, during these times it's been tough, but looking after – after one isn't as hard as looking after two, as harsh as that is."

I couldn't look at him. Not after I'd spilled my past like that, in all its glory. It was unnerving. I certainly wasn't ashamed, nor did I feel guilty as I'd done all I possibly could to make sure my brother was given a fighting chance, but I still felt exposed. Who knew how Edward would receive such a tale.

Still staring fixedly at the table I heard it when he shifted slightly in his chair; the first sound since I'd stopped speaking. Gathering my courage I raised my head and found him looking at me with a strange glint in his eye. Raising an eyebrow I cocked my head at him in question.

Turning faintly red, he tipped his head down, covering his eyes with his bangs. Fidgeting again he shook his head and looked up at me and I recognised the emotion in his eyes. _Guilt?_ That was ridiculous. Starting to feel a little angry I opened my mouth to tell him not to pity me when he cut across me.

"I – I'm sorry I made you relive that. I've had experiences like that in the past and I never liked retelling them. So...thanks. For answering."

Surprised, I nodded slowly. Then I grinned.

"It's fine. But now I hope you realise that I get to ask you a question again. And it's going to be personal. I take compensation seriously."

Astonished, he regarded me for a moment in silence. Then he grinned back, an honest to god wily smirk full of teeth.

"Sounds like an equivalent trade to me."

...

**We got a new kitten yesterday, a tabby called Mushu like the dragon in Mulan. She's refusing to come out of her little carry cage she's been sleeping in so I'm off to throw tinkly balls and string at her to make her play with me. Hope everyone is having a good start to the week.**


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I like playing with it, but it's not mine. And I should get a medal for making a disclaimer sound perverted._

**New stuff! Unfortunately more "filler" - I think I'll post something else as well to make up for this embarrassingly short installment. I am trying to make things a bit longer though, hurrah! **

...

Evidently patience got results fast. Which was highly contradictory. He'd have to remember to try it more often, regardless. In his case, though, fast probably wasn't a good thing.

Before they began their tète-à-tète he all but ordered Aubrey to go shower and change - he still felt a slither of guilt at taking up so much of her time and energy with caring for him, and he doubted she'd had much sleep the night; he was a complete stranger staying in her house after all. Her early morning reading made her insomnia fairly obvious. She looked faintly grateful at his suggestion, but also dubious and she probably had guessed his ploy of giving himself some time to organise what he was ready to share for her curiosity.

Her past had been painful to hear. He'd known the people of this world had been through difficult times, and the consequences of the World War had been considerable. Even back home after the Eastern Rebellion it wasn't uncommon for plague to break out in those areas most affected, carrying off any survivors who were lucky to make it through the actual fighting. But Aubrey hadn't made her parents' and her brother's deaths a sob story. She'd sounded matter of fact, stating it like it was and barely flinching. She'd looked miserable, but she hadn't seemed to be dwelling on what had been. That was something he had never mastered and for that reason he admired her.

But now she was prepared to ask him questions that were equally inquisitive and he knew he'd have to be selective. There was his previous life to consider. He didn't doubt that she would think him crazy if he told her he'd come from a parallel world. He could allude to his search for Al in the first three years of his time in Germany, not giving specifics away, but she was incredibly perceptive he was finding, so was sure to guess there were things he wasn't offering up. Like where Al was in the first place. Queue "I'm from another world" explanation.

It was also more than likely she would ask about the automail. If she was merely curious about the mechanics, he knew enough from what he'd learnt partially listening to Winry's squealing over the years to satisfy her. He thought. But if she asked how he came to possess them...the best thing might be to lie, the way he'd always had to when Al still inhabited armor, perhaps blaming the war.

And what if she delved more into his family life? He didn't see the harm in telling her his parents were dead but supposing she asked how? In his father's case, he couldn't very well say "killed as a sacrifice in order to open a mystical portal to a supposed utopia." That would just lead straight back to everything he was trying to keep under wraps. And it wasn't a tall tale _at all_.

Then she might ask the reason he was travelling. Searching for a uranium bomb? There wasn't really a proper reason for why a nineteen year old was trying to find a weapon that could kill en masse. Except if maybe he was really a spy for the Allies, working under the cover of a Nazi ambassador in order to gather intelligence and ultimately stop world destruction in its potential tracks. And who was he trying to fool – that wasn't any harder to swallow than the "I'm an extra-terrestrial" story.

_Shit. _Rubbing his temples, he picked up his tea cup and shuffled into the living room. Setting his drink aside and dropping onto the couch he closed his eyes, holding back a groan. This was just causing more problems. Probably the easiest thing was to tell those truths he was comfortable sharing. She'd understand that there were things he honestly could not tell her under any circumstances. He just hoped she wouldn't prematurely kick him out because he really wasn't as energetic as he would have liked. And he really liked her cooking.

Hearing her footsteps coming down the hall he took a deep breath and opened his eyes. Sitting up he found her standing in the doorway, watching him intently. Looking away again he willed his increasing pulse to steady. Edward Elric, who had faced death and disaster many a time with a cocky smirk was finding himself apprehensive of the questions a harmless _girl _was about to ask him.

Wasn't _that _ironic.

...

**Poor Ed. I can't imagine trying to censor my own past (not that there's really anything I'd have to keep quiet on). I was always impressed with the way a kid could have such forethought but still be such a brat. A very very attractive brat. ****  
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	9. Chapter 9

_Disclaimer: Not mine. Don't sue, I'm only a poor Uni student._

**Oh fudge, it's been a while since I updated, I apologise profusely! Uni has been a bitch, life has been a bitch, what's new? I hope to churn out a bit more of this story in the very near future so I can update more regularly. Fingers crossed! Anyway, hopefully this will be _something_ of a reward for your patience.**_  
><em>

...

The shower had invigorated me, and I felt more awake as I sat down beside Edward on the couch. I knew it was bad manners but I couldn't stifle my laughter at the picture he presented; he looked like he was ready to face down an opponent in a fight. I wasn't _that _frightening, was I? Though I supposed if I had things I didn't want to make public I would be quite nervous too (and he was closed off enough that this didn't seem too much of a stretch.)

However, even if he did seem to be getting ready for the firing squad, I wasn't compassionate enough to consider censoring my questions. I had to get rid of this curiosity or I was going to become even more suspicious of my guest than I already was. I would go slowly though. No need to cause him heart failure when I'd only just managed to prevent his death by fever. He was _sweating_ for goodness' sake.

"So. Firstly I should like to know a little more about you. Personally, I mean. I know your name is Edward Elric and you have a brother, Alphonse. You're...actually, I honestly can't tell your age, so that's my first question. How old are you?"

It was quite amusing to see the relief on his face, and a sadistic side of me took great pride in misleading him so easily.

"Oh. I'm nineteen. How old are _you_?"

"Technically, I shouldn't be answering that, in terms of the deal. But I'm twenty. You were born in '05 then. And you were 9 when the war broke out?"

He nodded, relaxing as he did so.

"Alright then. Next question. Your accent is German but that hardly means anything in this day and age. So enlighten me. Where are you from?"

_That _garnered more of the reaction I was expecting, judging from his immediately tense body and widening eyes. But I didn't retract my question. He'd promised to sate my inquisitiveness and I was going to hold him to that. There wasn't anything in the world that could sway me.

Except for a coughing fit, which was what promptly overcame him as he sucked in a quick breath. Immediately jumping to my feet I hurried to his side as he bent over, hands fluttering over his hair and back but not making contact. I needn't have worried though as he soon calmed down and straightened back up, eyes watering.

"Too personal? Here I was thinking it was one of the easiest to answer." Watching him closely I sat back down, folding my hands in my lap and waiting quietly.

Swallowing forcefully he turned back to face me, eyes determinedly avoiding mine.

"I...I am from Germany. I grew up in a rural town but went to Munich to study rocketry. I lived with a friend of mine, we worked together."

Silence filled the air as I him sized him up. I could tell he was only offering the bare minimum and it didn't sit well with me, but I supposed I could be generous. I'd grill him more when he wasn't still recovering from his illness.

"And your parents?"

He gave a small twitch but replied shortly, "Both dead. Illnesses."

He was certainly a man of few words. Few but dense. Illness was such a general term; it could mean anything from physical to mental to emotional ailments. But that cleared up something I'd wondered last night.

"They didn't die in the war then. I'd assumed that was the cause of your loss of limbs. Perhaps as a result, then?"

Oh, he didn't appear to like that at all. I knew I was prying, and it was deliberate. From what I could tell, Edward didn't contain his emotions well, and as callous as it was, I wanted to trick him into being angry enough to let things slip. And if I know one thing about men it's that they don't enjoy being pestered.

"No. Unrelated. But you're correct – I did lose my limbs during the war. It's not something I want to discuss in depth. I'm sure you can appreciate that."

_Well, that didn't work at all_. It seemed I was the one who'd been tricked; into thinking he was more impatient than he appeared on the surface. I was beginning to go around in circles.

Filing that information away I changed tactics.

"I'm fascinated by the way those artificial limbs have been created. I've never seen steel tempered quite like that, and I can't understand how it's powered. Electricity was my first thought, but where is the source? It's terribly unusual."

From the way his shoulders drooped I understood this was something he was comfortable answering.

"I'm not entirely sure of all the semantics but I know that the circulation is damn complicated. My childhood friend and her grandmother are experts in the field; they were the ones who created mine. They're a lot of maintenance, but if I'm...careful then they work perfectly fine. Better then fine actually, there's not many who can say they have prosthetics capable of full movement."

He'd evaded again, but he'd answered so sincerely I almost didn't spot it. But as I'd suspected, the limbs were too advanced to be common. How could such technology have been used on him if he was from a rural town? Perhaps he'd been rich?

"What were your parents like?"

His head turned to me sharply and I was suddenly caught by the fire in his golden eyes. It struck me how strange the colour was; why hadn't I noticed before? It wasn't a hue that one saw in passing, at all. It had to be hereditary.

He certainly wasn't avoiding me now. His whole attention was fixed upon me, and as we continued to stare at each other I became steadily more uncomfortable. Why wouldn't he answer me? Why wasn't he looking away?

Finally he directed his gaze to the side, letting out a heavy sigh as he did so.

"My mother was wonderful. She cared for my brother and me when my bastard of a father left us, without so much as an explanation. My childhood was happy, despite that. But when I was eight she contracted a sickness and passed away. My friend and her grandmother, they became our family. That asshole never showed his face, not even to her funeral. And when I lost my arm and leg, he became dead to me. I started acknowledging him when I was at University, and only then because I wanted to use his contacts. He was an influential man, my father, especially in the sciences. He died a year ago, after which my brother and I decided to travel together."

Shaken, I gazed at him silently. No wonder he was so tight lipped, if he'd come from such a broken family. It was beyond obvious where he got his mistrustful nature from now. And he was still keeping things in the dark, despite such disclosure.

"Why are you and your brother travelling?"

Again he tensed up, though now he was beginning to look weary.

"I can't really answer that. It was – is – important however. It has something to do with what we specialise in."

"And what's that?"

"Science."

"...Any particular one? There's quite a few."

"An obscure branch."

Now he was just being difficult. Frowning at him, I noticed the way his mouth twitched at my obvious annoyance. The tosser was doing it on purpose. He'd apparently had enough of answering my questions reasonably.

"Fine then. I can see you've reached the end of your tether." I hoped he hadn't heard the muttered "ass" I'd tacked onto the end.

At that his head whipped up so fast I thought he'd cricked his neck.

"Are you calling me short?" He ground out.

Startled, I shook my head skeptically. After all, if he was short then I was a pixie and I told him so. He looked quite gratified.

"I think we should stop the questioning for now. Let's have lunch and then we'll go out. I have to run into the town to do some errands and you should get some fresh air. Oh - and thank-you for sharing what you have. I appreciate it."

Flashing me a small smile he accepted my plan and I sprang up, pulling him to his feet along with me. Little did he know what I truly had in mind. He wouldn't share things verbally, so I was going to observe him in action. It was a much more reliable method than silly enquiries anyway.

...

**Usually I'm not one for whining about not getting reviews - but it does make me ever so happy to see people enjoying my creations, so if you have time I'd love to hear from you. Thanks to those who _have _given support; it's incredibly motivating :)**


	10. Chapter 10

_Disclaimer: Not mine, sadly. _

**Yo. Taking a "break" from study, decided to upload this because it's been sitting there for a while and it's eating at my conscience not giving you dears something as thanks for your coveted attention. Ah cripes, Woolf and Wordsworth are eating my brain. Stupid Realism.  
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...

The storm of yesterday seemed to have been nothing more than a dream as he and Aubrey headed into the town centre, the sun shining down on them with a warm caress.

Lunch had been a somewhat uncomfortable affair, despite the fact that Aubrey was her supposedly usual unconcerned self. Dodging her enquiries had been a disturbing experience, and he wasn't keen to revive the experience anytime soon. He was adamant in his decision though – she wouldn't have been nearly as commiserating if he'd told her the real circumstances of his adolescence. Something about the way she herself had skimmed over her own childhood however...he doubted she would think less of him for not going into detail. He could chalk it up to bad memory if he had to, though.

"What is it we have to do in town?" He found himself curious about the more mundane aspects of her life, now that some of the deeper secrets had been shared - besides, she'd said she sold books and he wondered if she had a shop or a stall in a market.

"Food shopping. You eat a lot, but I guess that's to be expected what with your recovery. But also I have to visit a friend of mine to unblock one of her drains; you can go for a walk while I do that if you'd like. Perhaps you'll hear something about your brother. But make sure you don't overdo it! I don't want to have to come pick you up from the side of the road or something."

Making sure she noticed the glower he was giving her he turned that over in his mind.

"You can fix drains? But you're a girl!"

She'd been grinning at his previous expression but now she stopped and turned to him, hands going to her hips and looking like she was seriously contemplating strangling him. Clearly she didn't take kindly to the distinction.

"Bravo," she replied tartly. "I do happen to be a female, but obviously I need to remind you that I've been on my own for a while. I had to learn how to do that type of work so I could save money. And besides, just because men might have more strength doesn't mean they have the motor skills required for some of the more intricate work. I know quite a few male acquaintances who haven't the faintest idea how to even change a light bulb. So, yes, thank-you for making it apparent that I am a _girl, _as I couldn't see that on my own_."_

_Oh Fu - _

Pink with shame, he looked away, mumbling a sorry. It wasn't in his nature to apologise voluntarily, but Aubrey reminded him scarily of Winry. Making her unnecessarily angry would undoubtedly catch up with him later. And now he felt even more idiotic for not picking up on the similarity – Winry had of course been a whiz with those kinds of handy chores herself as a perfectly self-reliant woman, so it shouldn't have surprised him that Aubrey would be just as able. God, he really was a chauvinist.

But Aubrey merely shook her head at his contrition as she continued walking; slowing so he could catch up.

"It's alright I suppose. I'm not much of a feminist, but sometimes I receive more pity when I explain the necessity of such skills and I rather hate it. It's why I try to make most of my living through book selling rather than household maintenance. But nowadays, anywhere I can get payment, be it through money or other necessities, I jump at the chance. Not that the people here pay much attention to what's going on in the rest of the world; at least not where it's easily seen."

He'd noticed that himself.

"How much do you know about the effects the last war's had on Europe?"

Looking over at him, he saw the weariness in her eyes.

"Enough to know that despite the end of the fighting conflict hasn't disappeared. The Treaty of Versailles was too harsh on Germany in my opinion, and I've heard plenty of rumours about that stirrer Hitler and his National Socialist party. I'm thankful not to be there at the moment, and if you don't mind me saying, I think you're better off not being there either."

"No, you're right; things there were pretty bleak even when I was studying in Munich. At least Hitler's locked up where he can't directly cause trouble."

"Much good that'll do. I doubt he'll be in there more than 5 months. It's far too evident he has his fingers stuck in more than one pie."

He made a face at the expression but it struck too close to the truth to be entirely humorous.

Hearing her sigh next to him he turned to her curiously, but she merely smiled briefly at him and turned to walk in front of him backwards.

"Let's just forget about depressing things like this. It won't affect us for now, and we won't be changing anything through speculation. Besides, what can we really do anyway? We won't be the ones to change the landscape. That's for the soldiers and the politicians."

He smiled back uneasily, wondering how she'd react if he told her he was planning to join that lot, if not as a proper soldier then certainly as a politician of sorts.

"Come on. We're here, and you should keep your eyes open. Maybe your brother will pop up in the flesh. At the very least you should see what the French have to entice at the market. If I'm anything of a judge, you'll be in heaven."

Looking at her grinning jovially at him, he couldn't resist chuckling. Aubrey was right in that sense; politics weren't going to affect them now. He should enjoy this unforeseen relaxation while he could.

_xxx_

_Moscow, Russia_

The room's darkness shields those who don't wish to be seen more effectively than any disguise. The only light, a dull lamp pushed into the corner, shines on the leader, a man of intimidating presence.

Silence permeates the dense space. The imposing man seems deep in thought, brow furrowed and hands steepled beneath his chin. No-one wishes to disrupt his meditation.

Finally, his eyes open and he fixes their calculating stare on the man seated across from him. All is still for a moment as the two communicate through air alone.

Then, the leader smiles. It is not a pleasant thing; instead it is twisted with greed and cunning. The other grins lazily back, eyes slitted with malice.

"Well, Huskisson. This plan of yours has merit. Not to mention the technology you have gifted us with. Perhaps my work will come into fruition quicker than I had thought."

The crazed scientist snickers softly.

"Not to worry, my dear Stalin. If all goes well, there won't be any need for your...work. You'll just have to sit back and watch the fireworks."

Even to the other members of the secretive party, the laugh Joseph Stalin bestows is disturbing enough to herald the end of the world they have come to know.

...

**Spent ages trying to find the right spelling for Huskisson's name. Gave up in the end, just did what spell check wanted. And I solemnly swear that as soon as exams are over I will begin writing again with renewed vigor. This chapter is the last of the material I've hoarded. Will probably be a few weeks before an update. Stay chipper, my loves.**


	11. Chapter 11

_Disclaimer: Mmm, beef._

**It's been a while, I am terrifically sorry. If you're still all around, I am one very lucky author. Let's not waste time then - here's the newest installment.**

...

Maybe it hadn't been the best idea to make him try the foie gras. So I hadn't mentioned it was duck liver, so it usually called for an acquired taste – it was uniquely _French,_ I was just trying to give him some culture! Though, from the way he'd promptly spat it out gracelessly, I supposed the hint had been taken on my part – never feed Edward Elric mysterious pâté ever again under the guise "if you like sauerkraut, you'll _love _this." It did make for entertaining memories, however.

We'd parted ways after he'd spotted Monsieur Desquart's wine tasting cart; apparently he and his brother had sampled some red wine at a vineyard during their crossing from Switzerland into Italy, and he'd admired the flavour so much he'd endeavoured to become a connoisseur. I preferred something stronger, not that I'd had much inclination to drink lately. But the hint was there, and he'd predictably raised his eyebrows in disbelief. We'd split, me grumbling about his stereotypical response, and I was now on my way to Renee and Vincent's apartment to fix their drain like I'd previously mentioned.

Passing through the streets, I listened contentedly to the voices of the town's folk and the comforting bustle of ordinary daily life. Living alone in the country had many perks, but hearing the noise of surrounding neighbours, comrades in arms when necessary and fond nuisances at other times, was something I found myself missing after Leo died. Only when one is truly alone without those on the peripheral, can one understand the safety other presences, be they merely on the outskirts, can bring. I'd always had family or friends that I could turn to, but though I wasn't lacking in acquaintances, I didn't have many I'd call a friend. And in terms of family, as I'd explained to Edward, I was severely deficient.

Everything was fused with warm sunlight, and even though my thoughts were somewhat melancholy, I couldn't deny that the present was a wonderful time in which to be alive. Besides, I wanted to seize all the peace I could before the dark days that I intrinsically knew were on the horizon overwhelmed us. With that resolution I took in the smells and sounds more attentively than I was want to do, so it was no surprise that I didn't notice when someone stumbled into my path until it was too late.

Finding myself winded and suddenly staring at the sky, I unconsciously wondered what, exactly, I'd done to deserve so much disruption. I'd been perfectly content with my uneventful life until Edward had sprung up, and now I was being mowed down by absolute strangers in the middle of a frankly quiet street. I honestly could not comprehend why it was _me._

As my breath began to enter my lungs at a normal pace, I became aware that someone was apologising profusely to me in some garbled foreign language. It sounded a little like Russian, though I didn't have much grip on the eastern languages so I couldn't pinpoint it exactly. Awkwardly raising myself into a seated position, I found myself being worried over by a young woman who was, nonetheless, quite unmistakeably a gypsy. Her eyes, earnestly staring at me, seemed to be begging me to forgive her, but I was still too winded to say anything. After a moment of just watching her closely, I held up a hand to quieten her.

"It's...fine. I wasn't watching..."

Shaking her head, she took my hand in hers. It was very rough, even to my far from soft palms.

"No," she replied quickly in heavily accented French. "I was rushing, it was my fault. Forgive me."

Smiling faintly, I nodded slightly, feeling tenderness in the base of my skull. Apparently I'd fallen a little harder that I'd initially thought.

"Alright then. We were both to blame. Nothing serious, though, I'm truly fine."

Smiling brightly in return, she squeezed my hand then helped me to my feet. Swaying precariously, I suddenly felt my head spin and the edges of my vision began to darken. Noticing her alarmed expression, I tried to reassure my companion, but I doubt I succeeded as I once again slumped to the ground.

_xxx_

The French might have some hideous concepts of fine dining, but their wine was definitely worth the trouble. So far he'd been supplied with a wonderfully full bodied red and a deliciously fruity white made from grapes grown in Chardonnay, and he was seriously debating whether he wanted to actually move onto the other stalls or not. The man behind the cart, Monsieur Desquart Aubrey had introduced him as, seemed ecstatic to find such a champion of fine wine in him, and was rapidly rising in his eyes as he explained the perfect way the grapes had been fermented.

Dimly noticing a gypsy girl rushing past him, he felt a fleeting nostalgia for Noah, but continued to argue with Monsieur Desquart over the more appealing aspects of the Italian vines in comparison to the French. When several gypsy men rushed back with the same girl, he was mildly curious, but had just taken a swig of a new white and brought his attention back to savouring the flavour. It was when he saw the same men and the original girl hurrying past with a familiar figure supported between them that he really began to take notice.

Mouth open in surprise, he didn't hear the comment Monsieur Desquart had made on the citrus undertones of the wine, but stood for a moment in shock before coming to his senses.

"Aubrey!"

He'd started to run before he remembered he held a wine glass in his hand, and he barely paused to put it down before running after the group of gypsies carrying the girl he'd only just started to know.

Catching up to them, he grabbed the shoulder of the gypsy girl and pulled her roughly to a halt.

"What's happened? Where are you taking her?"

The girl looked confused for only a moment before seeming to realise he knew Aubrey.

"You are her friend? She hit her head, fainted, we are taking her to mamă; she can help."

Knowing it wouldn't help if he argued, and not really having an alternative as he couldn't remember the way back to Aubrey's house, he followed the girl and her group as they passed through the town and into the outskirts where a camp was just visible through the trees lining the road.

Making sure he stuck close to Aubrey's side, he glanced at the children stopping their games and staring at them as they made their way to a tent in the centre of the camp, and just before he ducked through the woven cloth flaps he saw them converge together and begin talking excitedly. For some reason, the sight made him uneasy.

Turning back, he found himself looking at a cluttered, eclectic space of both living area and cultural collection. But what caught his attention and made him stop dead in his tracks was the person curled on a bed opposite the one Aubrey was now lying on.

"_Al!"_

...

**I have this image in my head of a drinking, chain smoking BAMF Ed so that's why he's somewhat classy here. I can see you all raising your eyebrows and saying "pfft" but just picture him in a slim cut suit with a glass of scotch and a smoke and you'll see why I'm practically drooling right now. It took forever for me to decide what language the gypsies spoke, and I ended up using Romanian for lack of anything better as well. But they're not Roma like Noah was - Roma are apparently a sub group from the greater faction called Romani. I went a little overboard with the research, apparently. Also, I love wine. If you couldn't tell.**


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